Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
I’d watched The Muppet Christmas Carol twice that day, appreciating the distraction of the festive puppets and Michael Caine’s deadpan performance. The Ghost of Christmas Past loomed large in my parents’ house, from the slightly tired-looking fake Christmas tree that I’d helped drag down from the loft (decorated with lolly-stick angels and a toilet-roll-middle reindeer that I’d made in primary school), along with the annual bottle of Advocaat and wedges of Christmas cake that I’d been making good use of. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come hovered in the wings in the form of packing boxes. An offer had been accepted from a cash buyer who wanted to move quickly, so my mam and dad were set to move out in February. As I observed Kermit the Frog mourning Tiny Tim, I took another deep slug of Advocaat.
Mam had popped out to see her parents, and Dad was having a nap upstairs, so I was having a rare moment alone since I’d arrived with my bags a few days ago. In the end, after weighing up my feelings about Penn alongside the pointlessness of trying to sort out the shop in the wake of the burglary, I’d decamped to my childhood home earlier than planned for Christmas. Carrying on and trying to use what little money I had to start restocking the shop was even more fruitless now that the house sale was a done deal, for all but the exchange of contracts. The ship hadn’t quite sailed, but it was sitting at the docks waiting to go, and any meagre amount of money I could still plough into their funds was too little too late.
I hadn’t seen Penn before I left, and hadn’t answered his calls or responded to his worried messages. I hadn’t answered anyone’s messages, to be fair, since I was in no mood to talk. After a while, I’d blocked Penn’s number. I had no way to prove that he’d done what I thought he’d done, but I just didn’t know what to say to him. I couldn’t even bring myself to ask the question. Thankfully, he hadn’t made an attempt to turn up here, but every time the doorbell went, I flinched. Anyway, now that it was the day before Christmas Eve, I assumed he was ensconced in the splendour of Northumberland with his awful family, probably drinking champagne or the blood of a freshly slaughtered stag, or whatever their festive tradition was. Now that I’d distanced myself from Penn, I had, to some degree, rekindled my disdain for his background.
I’d just plunged my hand into the tin of Twiglets, withdrawing a Marmite version of a Freddy Krueger hand, when the doorbell rang, making me jump. Dropping my snack, I headed cautiously to the door, only daring to breathe when I saw a familiar shape through the frosted glass.
‘I thought you might need this,’ said Christa, waving a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc at me. She was wearing a ‘Save the Turkeys’ sweatshirt. ‘Plus, I’d like to know what the fuck has happened. Season’s greetings by the way.’
I let her in and retrieved two glasses, each of us taking a substantial swig before I asked her how she’d found me.
‘Penn, of course. He didn’t want to arrive unannounced, since he’s quite sure he’s upset you. He doesn’t know why though. So he asked me to check if you’re okay. Plus you weren’t answering my messages.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said, pulling my lightly stained dressing gown over my Grinch pyjamas.
Christa’s unconvinced gaze swept over me. ‘Come on, Annie, you’re not fine. What happened? Was it the burglary?’
‘You could say that.’
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But by the time I got to the arcade, you’d already cleared off. Penn was frantically calling you and nobody knew where you were. Then Mike said you’d shut up shop for the holidays and wanted to be left alone. But why?’
My shoulders rose. ‘I just… I couldn’t see the point anymore. The stock is all gone; Mam and Dad have sold the house. It’s over.’
‘But you were doing so well. I thought you wanted to get out of your flatshare too – isn’t that a good enough reason to carry on?’
‘It’s complicated.’
She regarded me for a moment. ‘Is this something to do with Penn? I know you don’t like each other, but has he done something?’
I made a brief exasperated noise and ground my fists into my eyes. ‘Like I said, it’s complicated. But yes, that’s part of the reason I want out of the shop.’
‘Tell me, Annie. I’m your friend. I want to help you.’
Pausing for a moment, my heart pounding, I made a wild decision to just tell her the truth.
‘I didn’t like him before, and I don’t like him anymore. But there was a brief period where I liked him too much. And it seemed to be reciprocated.’ As I said it, I was aware that my eyes must have looked as haunted as Christa’s looked surprised.
‘Bloody hell,’ she breathed. ‘Wow.’ She sat back on the sofa, looking at the TV. Miss Piggy bustled around a snow-covered street wearing a bonnet and shawl.
‘I’m not sure what came over me,’ I said.
‘I still don’t get it. Are you upset about the burglary? Or have you and Penn broken up? If that’s what you’d call it – like, did you just hook up, or…?’
‘I don’t really know anymore.’ I explained in as simple terms as possible what had happened in Northumberland. Christa listened, rapt.
‘So you had a falling-out? Was it because you remembered he’s a known bird murderer?’ She shuddered.
I hesitated, deciding I hadn’t the energy to explain Penn’s real views on shooting, or the fact he’d orchestrated the protest. Plus, if I told her my suspicions about the insurance fraud, I could sound like a tinfoil-hat-wearing lunatic. After all, I had no proof. And worse, she could shop him to the insurance company or the police. I might have been disgusted with Penn, but I wanted no part in initiating criminal proceedings.
‘We… had a disagreement. I overheard a phone conversation, and I think he’s seeing someone else.’ A blatant lie, but at least it was vaguely close to my earlier suspicions. I needed Christa to understand why I didn’t want to see Penn ever again.
‘The dirty bastard,’ she whispered. ‘If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come on his account. I mean, I was going to check on you anyway, but still… he kept insisting that I report back to him.’
‘Why did you agree to help him anyway?’ I asked. ‘I thought you hated him.’
‘I do. But he looked so cut-up. Now I know it was his guilty conscience rather than genuine concern.’ She noticed my face crumple. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blunt. But it sounds like you’re well rid of him.’
I raised my chin and gave a decisive nod that didn’t necessarily match the turmoil in my head. ‘That’s right. I’m going to sell the odds and ends the burglars left behind, then I’ll hand back the shop. I’ll never have to see him again.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Christa, squeezing my arm, her eyes misting. ‘I can’t believe it’s come to this. I feel like I’ve only known you for five minutes, but you’re my friend now, and I don’t want to see you leave. I’ll miss you.’
‘It doesn’t mean we can’t stay in touch. We can still be friends even if I’m working somewhere else, you dafty.’
She smiled. ‘Yeah. We can.’
She topped up our wine glasses, and we settled back onto the sofa, watching the Muppets’ Christmassy celebrations. I sighed. After Christmas was over, I’d have to find myself another job, or even Neo’s place would be financially out of my league.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and despite my miserable mood in previous days, I felt slightly more buoyed up by the festivities. Auntie Pat and my cousin Kelly came over in the morning to drop off presents, both dressed like they were going on to a club. Kelly took one look at my tracksuit bottoms and patted the envelope she’d sellotaped to a box of chocolates, assuring me the enclosed New Look gift card would see me right in the New Year. Then, once they’d left, Mam put some party food in the oven, and we settled in front of the TV once more.
We watched The Holiday , against my dad’s will, although he seemed happy enough with a can of Fosters and a bowl of peanuts rested on his outstretched cast. I buried the momentary flicker of pain at the sight of Kate Winslet’s snow-dusted cottage, which sparked the memory of mine and Penn’s night alone in the lodge. Everything seemed to remind me of him; I’d even had to abandon a knitting project as the little black dog I was stitching started to look too much like Hendrix.
‘Ah, I love this film,’ said Mam. ‘I think I’d rather go to Los Angeles for Christmas than stay in the freezing cold.’
‘Me too,’ I agreed. ‘There’s a lot to be said for a change of scenery.’
‘Aye. Well, if you keep on with the shop, you’ll be earning the big bucks in no time and you can book yourself a nice holiday.’ Dad grinned at me, and I smiled back with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
I hadn’t been able to bear telling them the truth yet. They had enough to deal with without hearing about the burglary, and the less they knew about me and Penn, the better. I’d just said I wanted a longer Christmas break – the perks of being self-employed – and decided I’d tell them after they’d moved house that I was giving up the shop.
‘Yep,’ I murmured. ‘Next stop, the Maldives.’
‘That’s a girl,’ he said, patting my knee.
We finished watching the film, played a round of Monopoly then settled back down with some mince pies to watch Mam’s favourite soap’s Christmas special. Someone had kidnapped someone else and had answered the door to carol singers while their captive was tied up in the background. So far, so festive.
The doorbell rang.
‘Ooh, I wonder if that’s carol singers for us,’ said Mam, starting to get up.
‘It’d be a bloody good coincidence, since I feel like I’m being held hostage watching this rubbish,’ said Dad.
‘Sit down, Mam – I’ll get it,’ I said, and she rested back on the sofa.
‘Give us another mince pie,’ she said to Dad as I went to the hall, and I heard him rustling in the box. I smoothed my tatty hair and switched on the flashing red nose of my Rudolph sweatshirt before I opened the door, deciding a Christmas Eve visitor should be greeted with just a little bit of cheer.
Outside stood Penn, in his trademark trendy clothes, fairly ill-suited to the cold weather except for an artfully slouched beanie on his head. As if by reflex, I started to close the door.
‘Annie, please!’ he said, not quite jamming his foot in the door but coming close enough to make me pause.
‘What are you doing here?’ I hissed through the gap.
‘I needed to see you.’
‘I thought your emissary would have reported back. I’m fine, and I don’t want to see you.’
‘She did. And for some reason she seems to think I’ve cheated on you. Which is complete, utter bollocks.’
I hesitated. For a moment, my curiosity to hear him explain everything superseded my wish for him to bugger off. I opened the door just a little more, wide enough for him to see my furious expression.
‘Glad to hear it. But, unfortunately for you, I already know that. I just needed to make an excuse to Christa without potentially getting you in trouble.’
His brow creased. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I know about the Pink Floyd album, Penn.’
He was still looking confused. ‘What…?’
‘I know it wasn’t stolen. And I heard you selling it to someone else. Now, would you just leave? There’s nothing more to say.’ And I slammed the door, my heart thudding against my ribs. I turned and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths.
‘Who was that?’ shouted Dad from the living room.
‘Jehovah’s Witnesses,’ I said. ‘I’m just going upstairs.’
I stumbled up towards my bedroom, just hearing my mam as I went.
‘Jehovah’s? On Christmas Eve?’
I lay on my bed feeling like the little wall of happiness I’d started to build up inside me had been knocked down again into a pile of bricks. What the hell did Penn think he was doing turning up here? I didn’t doubt that Christa had put the fear of God in him when she’d reported back, even if Penn and I both knew that another woman wasn’t the real reason I’d run off. But I was surprised that he’d had the gall to come over when I’d made it very clear he was persona non grata. What exactly had he intended to say?
For the last few days, over and over in my head, I’d tried to piece it all together. If Penn had staged the break-in, then it made sense that he would set the scene – graffiti, online trolling… If he could pretend that we had a common enemy, then he could deflect suspicion away from himself, and by robbing my stock, it made everything seem more plausible. But part of my brain insisted that it wasn’t plausible at all, that he couldn’t do this to me. It was a dizzying cycle of emotions that I couldn’t break free of.
I put a pillow over my face and screamed into it, wishing I’d never even met him. Some time passed while I lay on my side, staring at the magnolia wall. I could hear Mam and Dad laughing at something on the telly, and the crack and hiss of Dad opening another can. I pictured the cosy scene as I lay in the semi-darkness.
Then the doorbell rang again. I heard my mam get up to answer it, and then the sound of several voices singing ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’. I allowed myself a small smile – they’d got their carol singers after all.
After half a minute, my mam’s voice drifted up the stairs. ‘Annie, pet. Can you fetch me down a pound? I’ve left my purse in the bedroom.’
I got up, retrieved a coin for her and went downstairs. In the doorway was a small crowd of people wrapped in padded jackets, gloves and hats, their breath clouding the air white as they sang. As they segued into ‘Silent Night’, I saw Penn standing at the back, not even pretending to join in. Instead, he locked feverish eyes with me and mouthed the word ‘Please’.